


Fine Line

by alwaysforevan



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Angst?, M/M, Obsessive Behaviour, Weird Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 17:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysforevan/pseuds/alwaysforevan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a fine line between obsession and love, and Jiyong's not quite sure which side he's on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fine Line

**Author's Note:**

> \+ Told in second person point of view, with "you" being Jiyong.  
> \+ I was in a rather obsessive mood myself when I wrote this a while ago. Little parts can seem a bit angsty.  
> \+ Beta'd by the wonderful Evan, so all lingering mistakes are mine. Please point them out.

(You’re obsessed?)

_“You know I like you,” he says to the ground._

_“I do know. Still, I want to hear it once in a while, so that I don’t forget.”_

_“Okay.” He meets your eyes. “I like you.”_

You don’t want to breathe. It hurts, and it’s kind of stupid that it does, but you don’t want to breathe because you might actually feel your heart swell with pain if you do. You’ll listen to him compliment your other friends and you’ll remember how he flinches away from you. You’ll think that he’s a liar and a cheat and a _thief_ —he stole your heart, snatched it away from you when you weren’t looking (he doesn’t even seem to care about it much but he doesn’t give it back either)—and you don’t want to think that about him.

Instead, you sit still and you don’t breathe. You play with the rings around your fingers and focus on a nondescript point on the floor. You grin and you _bear_ it because he is your _soul mate_ —you both know that. Nothing else matters because you two are connected by the soul and whatever he does on his own time with his own life is his own business, not _yours_. But you admit that you want it to be.

_“Are you angry?”_

_He doesn’t look at you. “I’m fine.”_

_“Is this about what I said earlier? Does it matter? We’ll always be together, remember?”_

_“I said I’m fine,” he says, and he storms off._

Silently, as the others chat it up and laugh all around you, you wonder why it’s okay for him to be jealous and not you. You wonder why he can talk to hundreds of people and make friends and you have to accept it. You wonder why he can’t see you give attention to another human being or he loses his mind.

Most of all, you wonder if he knows how much you want to openly show your jealousy—show how much you hate it when people drool all over him and he just smiles—and you wonder if he likes that he has so much power over you, that you won’t show your jealousy just to keep him around.

“He’s just like that all the time, right?” Someone is talking to you. Someone just asked you a question. Distantly, you register it as T.O.P’s voice.

You don’t look up from the spot on the floor. Everyone’s waiting for your answer but you don’t want to say anything. You twist one of the Chrome Hearts rings on your hand painfully hard because you know that they’re talking about _him_. You need to grin and bear it.

“Yeah,” you say to whoever’s talking. “He’s always like that.”

And everyone laughs and you keep smiling because it’s what you’re supposed to do.

_“No matter what I say, hyung always thinks I’m cute,” he says. You smile, because he’s talking about you and, frankly, it’s true. “He bullies me a lot but he only does that because he likes me.”_

_And everyone looks at you. You’re still smiling. “He’s being cocky again.”_

When the topic changes, you feel relieved. You are able to concentrate on the conversation and finally stare at something other than the floor. Your heavy heart loses some of its burdens and you can focus on how your best friend is being hilarious, on how the audience is so happy to see you—on anything but the sinking feeling you get in your stomach every time you catch yourself staring at him.

Really, you’re going to have to work on that habit one day. It’s too conspicuous.

_You’re standing on the stage, with dozens of people beside you. You look at every face and you see everyone smiling at you and you shouldn’t feel lonely. You think it isn’t really your fault that you do._

_This is who you are—a performer, a singer, and actor—but try as you might you can’t look around you and feel at ease._

_Your fingers are itching and you turn to the closest person beside you and say, “I miss him.”_

(You’re in love?)

Sometimes you panic. You panic in the middle of the night, or while you’re taking a shower, or after talking to your best friend, or right before a photoshoot, or whenever the feeling strikes. That feeling that you love him _so much_ and that the feeling is _not mutual_.

And it hurts you and you think that for a moment you might stop breathing because the swell that tightens your chest is _just so painful_. When you start breathing again, you’ve curled an arm around his shoulders or laughed at something he said.

But sometimes you catch the thoughts forming in your mind before they turn into feelings and you stop them from falling down to your heart. You catch them and, for a while, you put a little distance between you and him. You ignore him, you sit next to other people, you don’t call him, you hang out at clubs, and you just lose yourself.

Part of it is payback. Part of it is escape. None of it makes you feel better.

So, eventually, you end up right back where you started—fawning over him and bullying him and hugging him because you _can_ , because the break you took from him boosted your confidence and your self-esteem.

_“We should stop holding hands in public,” he says one morning._

_He says it and you stare up at him, swallowing your breakfast and blinking because you’re not really sure where he’s coming from. “I don’t see why I should.”_

_“You do it in front of others and it’s...embarrassing.”_

_“Others don’t matter.”_

_You respect his wishes nonetheless._

There’s a break from the recording and you’re standing around trying to ignore the fact that he’s laughing with people he’s _never seen before_ and this time you think you feel envious because he makes friends easily while you’re lonely.

Dae Sung walks up next to you and you two start talking about nothing in particular and you two make fun of each other for a while but your eyes keep landing on _him_ and you want to hurt him for stealing all of your attention.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize you bully him because you’re angry that he keeps stealing things from you (like your heart and your mind and your eyes and your time), things that are all rightfully yours and have no business being stolen.

At the forefront of your mind, however, is the very odd way he laughs, the funny way that he says things, and the endearing way that he gestures when he speaks.

You often wonder, and you suspect that you’ll always wonder, where the line between love and obsession is drawn. You wonder if you’ve crossed from one into another and then back again. You wonder how fuzzy that line is and how he might force you to erase it completely.


End file.
